Ezra’s deep voice echoes through the phone. “Talk me through it, Doctor Grey.”
He listens carefully as I describe how we found Ava, her current condition, her blood pressure.
“You’re right,” he concludes. “It sounds like she’s experiencing some significant post-traumatic stress.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I can’t give her lorazepam,” I grit out. “Her body won’t cope with it.”
Ezra snorts. “She doesn’t need lorazepam. She’s an omega.”
I sit up. “What do you mean?”
He tuts down the phone at me. “What are they teaching you in medical school nowadays?”
“I can’t say omega physiology was on the curriculum.”
He grunts. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Damned stupid laws.”
“Please, Ezra,” I breathe. “I need to help her.”
“And you will. You have everything you need right there. How many alphas in your group? Four?”
I frown. “Three.”
“More than enough. Ava is anomega, Max. That means her genetic makeup is different to ours, or to a beta. She doesn’t need medication like that. All she needs is you, and your pack. She needs care. As long as you can give her that, you should be able to bring her around.”
I squint at the phone. “Are you serious?”
This sounds like mumbo-jumbo bullshit to me.
He laughs. “As a saint. It’s not a magic fix – it wouldn’t help if she had something physically wrong with her. But for this… I’d say it’s exactly what she needs. Ava needs to understand that she’s finally in a safe environment, that you’re not going to hurt her, and that you’ll take care of her. It might take some time, but she’ll come around. Just make sure you’re giving her what she needs.”
My mind races.
“And those needs are…” I say carefully. Fuck, I hope he doesn’t mean –
“Not that,” he says sharply. “That girl’s been through hell. She needs nesting, and a safe space to recover. An enclosed space – warm, low lighting. She might respond well to your scents – used clothing, for example. Make sure there’s plenty of soft materials. Stay with her, talk to her, tell her she’s safe. See how she gets on in a day or so, and call me if there’s no change.”
I blow out a breath of relief. This, we can do. Even if it’s the strangest medical advice I’ve ever heard.
“We’ll try it. Ezra… thank you.”
“No thanks needed, Max. Call if you need me.”
Tentative hope fills me as I cross the room, my panic already clearing now that I have some sort of plan.
Nesting. Safe space.
We can give her that.
ChapterThirty
Nikolai
Istare at the limp girl in Lucien’s arms. Her hazel eyes look straight past me. No longer fractured, butempty. So fucking empty.
Like the world has finally broken her.
Max pushes past me, his ear to his phone as he calls Devlin Winter for help.
